A Direct Approach
by Livanthi
Summary: He had to know. At this point, she had made it painfully obvious. "Perhaps it might be time for a more direct approach."


Disclaimer: I do not own any of JKR's masterpiece._  
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"_I suggest the lot of you run to class."_

There was nothing particularly eloquent about the phrase that played repetitively through her thoughts. Regardless, it was like a plague on her mind.

She always was an earlier riser; the stress of upcoming exams had done nothing to change that. This morning she had risen with the sun and went on a morning jog around the castle grounds. Usually these runs were a form of meditation, a time to quiet her thoughts. This morning however, she couldn't seem to reach the peace brought by the quite of the morning, the sound of her steps on the grass.

Her eyes closed briefly as she blindly ran along the familiar path. She stopped when she felt the incline of the ground change beneath her feet. Upon opening her eyes, she looked out over the Black Lake from atop the cliffs. The lake appeared as smooth black glass. With the sun barely peeking over the horizon, there was no way to see deeper than the surface. The air was still. Crisp March air mingled with the vapor of her breath.

This year hadn't gone nearly as well as she had planned. The thrill of being made Head Girl and returning for her last year had diminished. Studies, dorm fighting, perils of the war, all weighed on her shoulders.

There was also the matter of the Head Boy.

James Potter – who she couldn't seem to get rid of.

Aside from the initial terror – and broken plate – that accompanied the revelation of their partnership for the coming year, _James_ had far exceeded her expectations.

Their shared dormitory, Head duties, classes, and a blossoming friendship had all surprised her. Their common room stayed relatively clean. He always finished his half of their leadership duties. Although, a subtle prompting was necessary occasionally. Once they agreed to both make a sincere effort to their mutual success, the results were spectacular.

Surprisingly, at least in Lily's opinion, they made a rather brilliant team. James was an efficient task-manager, and Lily struggled with organization. James tended to misplace things, while Lily always seemed to be able to find them. His boisterous, forceful attitude was kept in check by her calm, collectedness. She was rubbish with numbers, so he always managed the house points. He could never remember who got on well enough to survive hours in each other's company, so she scheduled the patrols. Professor and student alike were surprised at their efficiency.

He continued to surprise her.

_She happened upon James on her way to their dorm. He stood between a group of fourth year Slytherins and a young Hufflepuff. His wand casually held at his side, not ready to attack but certainly ready to defend. _

"_I suggest the lot of you run to class. Now." His tone held no room for question._

_The Slytherin's collectively scoffed and walked away, unwilling to trifle with the Head Boy._

_He crouched on the floor and offered a hand to a timid looking Hufflepuff, likely a first year._

_Partially hidden behind a suit of armor, Lily watched the scene unfold as James offered the boy a lopsided grin and helped him to his feet. _

"_Don't let them get to you, mate. Prats the lot of them."_

He had handled the situation without even throwing an insult. Lily found herself oddly proud. If she was being honest with herself, she found herself feeling that way quite often; those kinds of feelings were creeping up frequently these days – when he scored during a Quidditch match and threw a grin in her direction, when he surprised her with Honeydukes after she botched a Transfiguration practical, when he shoved cake in the face of that Ravenclaw arsehole who asked her if he could taste something sweet…

And even she could not deny his attractiveness. Tall, dark, and handsome did not even begin to describe James Potter. Over the summer, he had grown into the lanky limbs that had plagued him for the past couple years. Robes now hung on broad shoulders. Broad shoulders that, in addition to the rest of his torso, look rather impeccable in his Quidditch uniform. A torso that was even more impressive without robes. He had taken to sitting shirtless in his plaid pajama pants during late nights in their common room. Unwilling to give him the satisfaction of watching her rise to his bait, she had said nothing and allowed it to continue – not that she was complaining. His dark hair was perpetually messy and constantly looked like he had just rolled out of bed – a thought that was becoming more and more appealing. Hazel eyes that were capable of curling her toes.

For the last month she had dropped hints of her growing attraction to James. He remained as oblivious as ever.

"_James, the lacing on the back of my dress seems to be knotted. Help me out?"_

"_Is your shoulder still bothering you? I can help you with that."_

Others seem to be catching on. She happened to overhear Sirius in the Gryffindor common room one night, "Prongs, mate, the bird was sleeping in your shirt. Possibly only your shirt. How the _fuck_ did you not jump her?"

James had to know. It was painfully obvious – shamelessly obvious actually. The lingering touches on his arm, the cozy nights in their common room, the fact that she hadn't accepted anyone's Hogsmeade offers. James Potter would be the death of her. His smoldering eyes promised things that kept her awake at night. And yet, he had not acted. If it weren't for his eyes, she would surely have thought that he no longer had any interest in her. While he acted nonchalant, he had not managed to hide the way that his eyes followed her when they were in the same room. She could feel their burning gaze often.

"Perhaps," she mused as she smoothed back the titian hair that had fallen loose of its binding, "it might be time for a more direct approach."

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Thanks for reading guys. Let me know what you think!

– L


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